Harry Potter and the Primal Vanguard
by Jackass Of All Trades
Summary: Harry is more intelligent and observant.He trains hard to become powerful enough to save his friends,break free of Dumbledore's manipulations and to defeat voldemort.Super!Harry. Earns his power:Runes,Arithmancy,Warding and Transfiguration. Year 5.
1. Chapter 1

This is the first fanfiction I have ever written as well as the only one I have currently published so I won't lie, I'm a little nervous towards the reception it will get... Any comments and/or suggestions wether favourable or not are welcome, but I just ask the you keep them respectful please; constructive criticism is one thing, insults are another. Also, I am currently looking for a beta reader, so if anyone is interested, please drop a line and I will contact you as soon as possible.

Plot details: This is a fic that has been running around in my mind for quite some time and I decided to try and write it the way I would have like the series to unfold. This will be a Super!Harry as I'm a fan of the genre, but it won't be a ''Heir of all founders and Merlin'' type thing or an instant power boost; any and all abilities Harry will gain, he'll have to work for and his power level won't reach God-like status. Eventually, Harry's skill will reach the Dumbledore/Voldemort level but only in certain branches of magic - Harry won't be a master potionneer or a seer or have insane battle-magic. Rather, I've decided to give him talent in Warding, arithmancy and transfiguration. The reason for this being that I'm going to go in depth into the rules of magic and its different branches (Something I would have liked J.K. Rowling to do) and clearly define their abilities and limitations. Also, Wandless magic will be present but extremely limited: Wizards use wands for a reason (Or so my story presumes) . As for staves, I'm not a fan of them so I'll limit myself to wands. As for the plotline, It's quite simple - I've tried to write Harry as more observing and intelligent, so he'll train himself, learn about magic more in-depth, and ultimately, try to live his life to the fullest while trying to defeat voldemort. Saying any more would be spoilers.

Warning: Hermione and Ron Bashing will ensue, but to a limited degree( because I hated the way they acted towards Harry in book 5) and there will be use of swearing and sexual references throughout, though I'm not yet comfortable with writing lemons so don't expect graphic scenes for a while.

"Speech"

'Thought'

_"Legilimency_"

* * *

><p>Chapter 1<p>

A silent Harry Potter mulled over the past year in the back of his uncle's Volvo on the ride 'home' from King's Cross station. Contrarily to what everyone who knew him would have thought, he didn't blame himself for Cedric Diggory's death. No, that was Dumbledore's fault; Harry had started doubting Dumbledore's intentions shortly after the third task. To be more precise, he had started to doubt after being brushed off yet again when he had asked Dumbledore for some answers in the Hogwarts infirmary. So while Harry lay alone in the infirmary nursing a broken leg, he had begun to question the events that had led up to his current condition. And that's when he realised something huge: Nothing made sense since the beginning of his fourth year of tuition; how could the most powerful and wise light wizard since Merlin himself _NOT _realise that one of his close friends was in fact being impersonated by a death eater? For a whole _YEAR_? Harry had then had his epiphany: It wasn't just his fourth year that made no sense; it was his entire stay at Hogwarts: Dumbledore hadn't realised that the most evil dark lord since Grindelwald had been stuck to the back of his employee's head? That what was _PETRIFYING _his students during Harry's second year was a Basilisk? There were only a handful of creatures that _COULD_ petrify humans to begin with! And to think that a _SECOND YEAR _girl, no matter how smart, had figured it out meant one thing: Dumbledore knew. He knew all of it! He had to! It was the _ONLY_ logical explanation. Which lead to Harry's earth shattering question: `What Does Dumbledore get out of letting me go through all that crap?'

Harry was jostled out of his thoughts when his uncle pulled into the driveway at number 4 private drive. Picking up his trunk and Hedwig's cage, he trudged through the front door and straight up to his room. The utter lack of threats coming from his uncle and the absence of his aunt's insults, though a welcome change, bode ill for the rest of the summer. After a few minutes of settling back into his personal level of hell, he laid out spread eagled on his bed; he needed to think and make some sense of years of strange coincidences and odd occurrences.

'Okay' Harry thought as he rubbed his temples. 'Let's start from the beginning and place the list of my screwings-over in chronological order: Number one, The Dursleys; the blood wards around privet drive are fuelled by LOVE. What a joke... And now that Voldemort has my blood, does that mean he can enter privet drive? Note to self, look up blood wards and FAST. Number two, I'm a Goddamn celebrity and I have never received any fan mail, even at Hogwarts. Which means someone is screening and/or holding back my mail. Which begs the question: 'What am I not receiving?' How about bank statements? They exist in the muggle banking system, so does Gringotts offer a similar service? Is it mandatory? I'll have to look into it later. Number three, Quirrel; what the hell is up with that? You're telling me that there isn't a single protection in Hogwarts that didn't notice a wraith stuck to the back of his cranium? Maybe wards or some sort of dark magic detector? And what about the unicorn blood; you'd think that Dumbledore would know if unicorns started popping up dead in his forest, considering how potent and dangerous their blood is if used for dark magic...Then comes the protections around the mirror of Erised: A room full of flying keys? A chessboard? Not an amalgamation of wards or a fidelius charm? If Dumbledore had really wanted to, he could have replaced Snape's entire riddle with poison... And why not just keep it on Dumbledore at all times? He IS the most powerful wizard currently out there...And why would he leave the mirror out for me to find like that? Out in the open with Quirrel lurking about...Something doesn't add up. Moving on to my second year: The Basilisk. 'Nuff said. And what about my parseltongue abilities? Yet another thing to look into. Then comes the journal: What kind of magic can recreate life? Didn't Dumbledore tell me in first year that no magic can bring back the dead? Then how can Voldemort still be alive? I mean, he WAS hit full frontal with a fucking killing curse! And how could a YOUNGER version of him be in that diary? I'll have to remember to look into that too. Number five, Sirius: Dumbledore is the head of the wizengamot, so why didn't he push for a trial? If only to know how he failed so he wouldn't make the same mistake again. And what about the fidelius charm? That's insanely advanced magic! There's no way Pettigrew could have cast that behemoth. So how did he become the secret keeper? Since Dumbledore's the one who sent mum and dad into hiding, it makes sense that he would know who the secret keeper was! And why did mum and dad go into hiding in the first place? Is that what Dumbledore wouldn't tell me in my first year? What the hell is going on here? This is starting to look like a conspiracy and I'm not even done my third year yet! And what about Lupin? The man was one of dad's closest friends and he never even TRIED to look me up? Not even once? If he DID try to contact me through letters, he would have asked why I hadn't responded after we met last year...Which means he can't be trusted, at least not for the moment. And why wouldn't Dumbledore just order veritaserum used on me or Sirius to prove his innocence last year? Hell, even Severus bloody SNAPE was there! It seems my list of potential allies is getting pretty thin. And number six, this entire convoluted tournament! My primary concern is how the hell did Crouch get into Hogwarts in the first place? Isn't it supposed to be the safest place in the world? And how did Crouch not slip up once with Dumbledore? You'd think two people who've known each other that long had a few inside jokes, if not stories to reminisce about...Either Crouch is an Oscar award winning actor or Dumbledore was up to something. Somehow the latter seems more likely at this point. And what about the tournament itself? How is it magically binding if SOMEONE ELSE threw in my name? That would mean that the amount of fraud in the wizarding world would be catastrophic if someone could create a magically binding oath simply by WRITING DOWN SOMEONE ELSES NAME! And another thing thing I'll have to look into. Oh joy.'

Harry got up from his bed, retrieved a quill, ink and some parchment from his trunk then sat down at his desk. 'Might as well write up a list of what I have to look into' Harry thought wearily as he began scratching away at his parchment.

Contact gringotts

Look up blood wards

Try to get Sirius exonerated

Look into life/death magic (How is Voldemort alive. Is it Necromancy?)

Magical contracts

Parseltongue. How can it be used?

Expand my knowledge base (Voldemort may be insane, but he has fifty years of experience and most likely some extremely dark stuff at his disposal. Also, best not count out Dumbledore; the man's a living legend.)

A small list it might be, but writing it had taken harry hours he had not seen pass by. He would start his inquiries the following morning, he decided. Already dozing off, Harry hobbled tiredly to his bed and fell into nightmare-addled sleep.

* * *

><p>Harry awoke the following morning with a jolt. Gasping for air and clutching at his chest, the image of the killing curse hurtling towards him burned into his retinas. Cold sweat dripped down his back as he got up and stumbled into the shower, the warm water soothing to the touch. Harry quickly got dressed and quietly walked down the stairs - He didn't want to wake the Durseleys lest the eat him for breakfast. Harry snickered at the thought, opening the front door and exiting the house. He pulled out his wand and stuck it out, the Knight bus exploding into existance meer inches from his face.<p>

'' 'Ello there, My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor today.'' A skinny youth with severe acne proclaimed in an unintelligible cockney accent as he leaned down towards Harry.

Harry hastily shoved thirteen sickles towards Stan, while blurting out ''The Leaky Cauldron'' hoping to avoid any conversation. Grabbing the receipt, Harry sat down and held on as hard as he could to his seet. The bus screeched forwards at an allarming pace, houses, buildings and people an indistinct blur outside the windows. Turning left, then right then left again, the bus lurched forward, then back as Ernie the driver drove on with gusto.

'' Leaky Cauldron, London'' Were the most beautiful words Harry had ever heard and he steeped down from the bus still queasy from the ride. Making his way inside, he avoided the gaze of the other patrons of the pub and strode towards the archway to Diagon Alley.

The Alley was full of people browsing and walking about to various shops that Harry had never even entered or heard of before. Once again, Harry pondered how much knowledge he was lacking about so many items, customs and the wozarding world in general - He wasn't even sure how the political system worked for Merlin's sake!

'' Note to self: Learn as much as I can about everything I can. Knowledge is power. And to fight in the upcoming war, I'll need as much power as I can get."

Harry made his way to Gringotts, the tall marble columns almost blinding him as he walked out of the sunlight and into the bank. Harry walked nervously into the cathedral-like hall, looking left and right wondering who to talk to when he saw the information desk. Harry turned left and stood in line, waiting his turn as teh wizard in front of him argued with the Goblin teller is a language he couldn't identify. Finally, the man walked away angrily and Harry stepped forwards.

"Hello sir, welcome to Gringotts. How may I help you?" The Goblin queried.

- Um, well you see, I would like to speak with someone about the state of my finances and any bureaucratic aspects surrounding them.

- Very well sir, name and key please.

Harry handed over his key and spoke his name, noticing the subtle twitch in the Goblins eyebrow as it raised slightly higher.

"Right this way " the Goblin proclaimed as it hopped down from it's stand and walked towards a wooder door. The Goblin opened the door and ushered Harry into a small office with many filing cabinets and an older looking Goblin sitting behind an oaken desk.

The elder Goblin looked up at Harry and proclaimed "Welcome Mister Potter. We've been expecting you for quite some time."


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to everyone who's read the first chapter and thank you to those who have favourited the story. I decided to put out the second chapter as quickly as possible, it's not very long but I wanted to put something out as soon as possible while I take some time to work on chapter 3 which will be a lot longer.

To hpsbdg who asked me ''Why Parvati?'' in his message: Because she is a very underplayed character who I can pretty much mold into what I think would be best for Harry. Plus, the awkwardness from the Yule ball will throw some twists and turns into their relationship. Rest assured, I won't make her superficial. Thank you very much for your kind words.

"Speech"

'Thought'

_"Legilimecy"_

* * *

><p>Chapter 2<p>

''You've been expecting me?'' Harry asked as he stared confusedly at the elder goblin.

''Yes Mr. Potter we have been expecting you since your first year at Hogwarts as per instructed in the numerous letters we have sent you.''

"Letters? What letters?" Harry asked, his ire rising steadily.

"I refer, Mr. Potter, to the quarterly bank statements we have been sending you for the last four years as well as our summons in October of last year when you were chosen as the fourth Tri-wizard champion."

At that moment, Harry saw red and, balling up his fists, he told the goblin through clenched teeth: "Sir, I have never received a single letter or summons from, Gringotts."

The Goblin jolted forwards and stared levelly at Harry. "Mr. Potter, you are saying that NONE of our letters have reached you?"

''That's exactly what I'm telling you.''

Speaking incredibly fast in what Harry assumed to be Gobbledygook, The older goblin shouted a string of commands at the younger goblin, who raced out of the office.

Sighing, the goblin indicated to Harry that he should sit down.

"Mister Potter" he began "I regret to inform you of the possibility that you have been a victim of fraud and theft. I am Snarltooth, and I am in charge of handling your account."

As he said this, he pulled out a thick folder from a filing cabinet on his left and opened it. Putting on his glasses, he began to look over the file.

"The Potter family was never a substantially wealthy one, but you have rather considerable assets for a wizard of your age: You currently possess two vaults, a trust vault with a yearly stipend of 2500 Galleons and a family vault currently containing 48 372 Galleons, 936 sickles and fifteen knuts. This places your wealth at roughly 250 000 muggle pounds."

Harry was flabbergasted. He knew he had some money, but a quarter of a million pounds was A LOT considering he was an orphan. He may not have been a millionaire, but he had enough to get him through his schooling and then some.

The younger goblin burst into the office holding a piece of parchment. He quickly set it in front of Snarltooth and began pointing to figures on the parchment while whispering hurriedly in Gobbledygook. Snarltooth's face passed from anxiety to relief then set into a grim facade.

"I have some good news and some bad news Mr. Potter. The good news is that your wealth and the security of your assets is intact and that none of it has been touched. The bad news, however, is that we are unsure as to why you did not receive your statements. If the owls who deliver them cannot find their intended target or are unable to reach him or her, they return to Gringotts. This is curious because all owls returned without their letters. The only way this can occur is if you or a guardian of yours has accepted the papers. Since you have obviously not received them, the only other possible recipient can be Mr. Sirius Black. And this cannot be as we cannot send owls through the wards of Azkaban where Mr. Black was incarcerated until two years ago. I am sorry Mr. Potter, but that is all the information I have."

Harry's mind processed the information being given to him at a furious pace, trying to find loopholes or to think of someone who could be responsible.

He could think of nothing.

Sighing, Harry weighed his options and made a decision.

"Mr. Snarltooth, may I be honest with you regarding a…discrete matter?"

Snarltooth leaned forward and, raising an eyebrow, declared "Any and all matters discussed within Gringotts to any goblin remains confidential unless otherwise requested by the client. This much I can guarantee. However, I cannot guarantee Gringotts' help or my own until I have heard the matter at hand. I hope this can suffice."

Harry sighed and began telling Snarltooth of the 'oddities' that had plagued him and his suspicions concerning Dumbledore and Remus Lupin. He then took the parchment with his goals and handed it to Snarltooth, asking him if he could help Harry locate information on these subjects. Snarltooth read the the parchment carefully and then gave Harry an intense stare which he hesitantly returned.

"I cannot pledge any assistance from Gringotts on any of these matters" Hearing this, Harry hung his head. "However, I can tell you with certainty that your logic is flawless. I will personally look into how much control Headmaster Dumbledore has over your accounts, if any, and I will speak to my superiors regarding Mr. Blacks mistrial. Though any further assistance regarding Mr. Black will require compensation of a monetary nature. Now, concerning He-who-must-not-be-named, I cannot proclaim myself because of my lack of knowledge on the dark arts, I can however recommend a bookstore in Knockturn Alley by the name of "The Gilded Parchment". If anyone can find the information you seek, It's the man to whom the store belongs. Ask for Mr. Fleet. This is all I can do."

Harry thanked Snarltooth and after being escorted out of the office, he made a swift trip to his vault to get money for purchases and to bribe Mr. Fleet, should the need arise.

* * *

><p>Walking down Diagon Alley, Harry decided to stop at a magical optician. He there purchased a new set of glasses, his old prescription having never truly fit him. He surmised that his magic had compensated for the lenses of poor quality and was quite happy to be rid of them, having instead bought sleeker looking rectangular frames.<p>

He pressed on, making his way to the junction of Diagon and Knockturn alleys, stopping in front of the latter. He knew that many dark things lurked there, but in the daylight it looked less frightening then he remembered. Taking a deep breath, Harry began walking down the street, keeping his head down and trying his best to be discrete. It didn't take long to find the crummy looking bookstore and as he stepped inside, a bell chimed to which a gruff voice responded "I'm coming, I'm coming, hold your horses. I'm Edward Fleet, welcome to my shop."

A tall bearded man who looked to be in his early 70's walked up to the counter, one eye blue, the other a dark brown. He peered curiously at Harry and asked: " 'Little young to be down here, now 'aint you boy?"

Harry responded by taking a galleon out of his pocket and placing it on the counter.

''Theres 50 more in it for you if you help me find some information.''

Fleet rubbed his chin thoughtfully, eyeing the Gold with interest, his brow raised.

''What kind of information?''

''The kind that stays between you and me.''

The old man grinned and took the gold piece off the counter with a twinkle in his eye.

''Where do we start?''

* * *

><p>It was late when Harry walked into Privet Drive with four tomes; a book on warding principles and its application, a thin book on parseltongue, a compendium of all known magical arts and the most complete anthology of the dark arts he could find.<p>

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Durleys sitting in the den, doing their best to ignore him, Mad-Eyes threat still at the forefront of their minds.

He clambered up the stairs and into his room and began opening the book on wards when a splitting pain sliced through his scar like a white-hot knife.

He felt darkness engulf him as he fell backwards.


	3. Chapter 3

I would like to thank everyone who has read the story so far and all those who comment or have added the story or myself to their favourites_. _I'm very flattered by the positive attention the story has been getting and would like to thank ElDani for accepting to be my Beta reader, for his excellent ideas and feedback and for the great help he's been with this chapter and the direction this fanfiction is going in.

Any Questions comments and suggestions are welcome and much appreciated. Thanks for reading.

_"_Speech_"_

'Thought'

_"Legilimency"_

* * *

><p>Chapter 3<p>

_A tall skeletal looking man paced in front of a dozen or so cloaked figures, a large snake following his every move, hissing as it slithered by those kneeling in front of its master. The smallest most feminine looking figure shuddered as the snake moved past her._

"_My loyal Death Eaters" The skeletal man spoke. "I can tell that many of you are anxious tomount our offensive against those who would oppose Lord Voldemort." At this, many of those kneeling rustled with anticipation, though none made a sound, all of them terrified to raise their master's ire._

"_I tell you this now, we will not attack directly. Not until I have everything I need to destroy the boy. Then the old fool will be powerless against me." Voldemort continued. "For now, you will do as I ask of you and stay inconspicuous. The Ministry of Magic must believe that Dumbledore has gone senile and believes a delusional teenager. We must be as shadows."_

_Voldemort turned to one of the kneeling figures, his cloak billowing behind him as he strode barefoot to his prostrate servant._

"_Lucius," The Dark Lord intoned. "you have Fudge's ear, do you not?"_

"_Yes my Lord," The elder Malfoy replied in a silky voice. "the blundering oaf does as you command."_

"_Excellent" Voldemort replied with a vile grin. "For now, you will corrupt his perception of Dumbledore. Make him believe the old fool wants his power. Do everything you can to rob Dumbledore of his allies and leave him alone in the dark. I want him holed up in his castle knowing he has no power over it. You will make Fudge rip that power from him. His influence at Hogwarts must crumble like ash."_

"_As you command my lord." Malfoy replied with the same smooth tone._

"_Now all of you leave except Rookwood." Voldemort commanded, his voice cold and authoritative. _

_A loud series of cracks and pops were heard, all people in the room vanishing save the Dark Lord and one of his followers who twitched in anticipation, expecting a cruciatus curse for some mistake he might have made._

"_I have work for you in the Department of Mysteries."_

* * *

><p>Harry bolted upright, his head pounding and his eyes watering from the pain in his scar. His vision blurry, he fumbled around for his glasses which were on the floor beside him, having slipped off his nose as he hit the ground.<p>

"What the fuck!" Harry grunted as he rubbed his forehead, fighting down nausea and trying to make some sense of the images swimming in his mind. Grunting, he slowly made his way to a vertical stance and hobbled to his desk.

He needed to let someone know what he saw. He needed to alert Dumbledore. Grabbing a quill, Harry scratched furiously at his parchment, writing four letters. The first was to Dumbledore detailing what he had witnessed, the second to Sirius detailing his fear over his vision and the last two to Ron and Hermione. They were his best friends after all and deserved to be kept in the loop.

Harry tied his messages to Hedwig's talons, biding her safe journey and letting her take off out through his window.

For hours Harry paced waiting and watching for some sign that his letters had been delivered, hoping he had helped somehow when off in the distance, he saw a dark blot flying towards Privet Drive. Squinting, Harry made out what seemed to be wings and as the blot came closer, it took the shape of an owl.

Throwing his window open, Harry watched Hedwig swoop into his minuscule bedroom and land on his bedpost, visibly out of breath. He quickly untied the parchment strapped to her leg and brought her a bowl of water, setting aside some owl treats for her in the process.

Opening the missive, Harry made out a stylish print written in purple ink.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I have received your letter and am taking appropriate actions towards the matter at hand. However, I must ask that you postpone any involvement or contact with the outside world post-haste. This is a necessary confinement that I am sure you will come to understand with time._

_I must also ask that you stop communicating with Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Granger for the summer as this is a necessary precaution to ensure your and their safety. I have spoken with them both and they have agreed to cease and desist in any contact with you._

_Headmaster of Hogwarts, _

_Albus Dumbledore_

Harry stared at the letter with confusion, re-reading it over and over.

'Ron and Hermione….Don't want to talk to me?'

Anger exploded in Harry's mind. He tore the letter and hurled Hedwig's now empty water bowl across the room, shattering it on the wall. A low growl slowly left his throat, building up into a crescendo until it exploded into a full blown scream, frustration and anger driving Harry's magic wild with emotion.

Panting, Harry fell onto his bed, tears of frustration making his eyes water as he clenched his teeth.

'They don't want to talk to me. They abandoned me' Harry thought over and over as his anger finally dwindled and shifted into resentment. 'If it was that easy for them to cut me out, I'll do the same to them.'

Harry brooded for hours, staying up for no other reason than to grumble to himself.

* * *

><p>Harry came to a point where his anger was replaced with boredom, and since he had nothing better to do and didn't want to waste his time thinking about people who he assumed had betrayed him, Harry pulled out the books he had bought from The gilded Parchment and took one at random – His magical compendium.<p>

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Harry began to read.

The more he read, the more excited he got; the book explained fields of magic that he had never heard of before and detailed possibilities about branches of magic he already knew but didn't fully understand. New possibilities were forming in his head.

The book split magic as a whole into two factions: Primal and Control.

Any spell could be cast with primal or controlled intent, the difference being the manner of casting; Controlled magic required a wand - It focused the magic into a more potent flow, like a funnel. Primal magic however, was wandless and derived from passion, desire and emotion rather than precision; animagi, metamorphmagi, wish magic, and apparition were stated examples of primal magic. The only core difference was that controlled magic was more potent and more streamlined whereas primal magic was more wide-spread and larger in effect. A short history of these two camps was integrated in the book; primal magic was the primary form of magic used by most cultures until the Roman Empire which emphasised culture and grace rather than what they called 'barbaric customs'. Thus, most controlled magic in the world had a Latin root.

The book went on to explain many of the topics covered at Hogwarts in ways Harry had never heard of before, classifying them as 'active magic':

"_An active magic is defined as being any field of the magical arts that interact with either one's magical core or an external magical source. Many of these branches interact with each other to create new classifications and sometimes, entirely new branches of magic."_

The book went on, describing the magic taught at Hogwarts in a more detailed way then Harry had ever seen; the teachers explained the basics and what the spells did, but never explained WHY they did what they did.

Transfiguration was described as any magic that changed the inherent nature of any target. Its sub-branches included conjuration, a notoriously difficult art which wasn't taught until 6th year and Shape shifting which includes metamorphmagi, animagi and lycanthropy as well as human transfiguration.

Charms was defined as a close cousin of transfiguration, though rather than change the inherent nature of a target, it added, removed or changed only certain properties. Many of the sub-branches of charms were rather esoteric in nature: Enchanting, wand-making and certain types of warding were all off-shoots of charms.

Warding was a very convoluted subject in the wizarding world. The reason being quite simple: No-one did it exactly the same way. There were two main ways to cast wards, the first being the traditional wand-magic of casting the spell and anchoring it to the target. The second using runes arranged in certain schemes that were either charged by the caster or recharged over time by the ambient magic. It was even possible to cast the spell and tie it to a runic scheme making the possible combinations virtually limitless.

Depending on what runes were used and in what order they were placed, they created different magical properties. Runes of different languages even had different abilities and tended to be harder to mesh with opposing languages.

Reading on, Harry became more and more engrossed in the book, learning more than he ever had at Hogwarts in the few hours he spent looking it over.

Eventually, he came to a chapter about Arithmancy. Harry was slack-jawed when he read the possibilities of the mathematical magic. It was the base of spell-crafting: you could construct a spell from the ground up and bind the magic you had made to the words of your choosing. Different languages were bound to certain spells more or less easily, depending on the nature of the language. For example, German was a harsh language and therefore more suited towards offensive spells rather than warding. And the length of the words could make any spell more advantageous: In a fight to know the Romanian version of a stunner rather than the Latin root Stupefy could shave a few seconds off casting time and win a hypothetical fight.

Grinning, Harry decided he would learn the intricacies of magic, starting with arithmancy. Spell-creation was the most interesting subject he had ever seen and would be a gateway into virtually every other magical art he could think of.

Arithmancy did, however, have its flaws: Spell creation was a long and tedious process that could go wrong a hundred times in a hundred different ways! And even after the spell was complete, you needed to perform the binding ritual which would tie it to a set of words. And not any words would do; every magic created had an essence of its own described as two characteristics: The Field and the Pull.

The Field decided which branch of magic the spell was tied to, be a charm, wards hex or any other type of spell. It was the body of the spell.

The Pull was the intent behind a spell, the feel of it: What the spell was supposed to do and how it was supposed to react. In essence, the soul of any piece of magic.

The incantation had to reflect the right personality for the spell and be in the proper language for its particular feel.

This made spell-crafting an extremely volatile art because any given spell could end up not working, backfiring or even having undesirable and possible violent side-effects.

Harry was hooked.

Finally getting some sleep, Harry woke the following morning feeling excited. For the first time in a long time, he had control over something: What he knew and what he was going to learn was completely up to him. The Sorting hat had, after all, said he had a good head on his shoulders. Perhaps it was time to put it to good use. He had spent so much time slacking off because Ron wanted to 'hang out' and had purposefully not done his best in examinations to make sure not to bruise Ron's ego should he score higher than him on a test.

Harry then made a decision that would change his life forever. He would be the best that he could be. No more holding back.

He spent the day finishing the compendium on magical arts the last chapter of which intrigued him greatly:

The mind magics.

He read the description of legilimency and occlumency, gaining a huge amount of respect for their powers and a great deal of fear for their capabilities; a master legilimens could possess people.

'Maybe the connection between me and Voldemort is based on legilimency' Harry pondered as he re-read the chapter on mind-reading. 'If I can see into his mind, maybe he can see into mine.'

This thought deeply scared Harry. If Voldemort could delve into his thoughts, what else could he do ? The idea was terrifying.

Occlumency was added to the very top of Harry's growing list of things to learn.

Opening his book on warding principles and theory, Harry began to read.

Transfixed by the subject, Harry decided that warding would be his second specialty along with Arithmancy. What he didn't realize was that he had just chosen the magical branches used in curse-breaking. Pausing only to eat and use the loo, Harry pressed on, completely oblivious to the world outside his books. By the end of the day, Harry was half-way through his warding tome when he stumbled onto something huge; a chapter on blood wards.

"_Concerning Blood wards_

_Blood wards are considered dark magic by virtually every practitioner of the warding arts throughout the world and have been banned from most wizarding countries. The reason for this being that the wards will draw their power from the individual whose blood has been used, effectively trapping their magic as the source of power and therefore depleting their magical core their magical core. Casting blood wards is a punishable offense in most countries."_

The wards didn't protect Harry, they fed off him.

And Dumbledore had cast them.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read, comment, favourite and/or review the story. It means a lot to me to get feedback from the readers. I would also like to thank ElDani, my Beta-reader for all his help and the amazing work he does in making the story readable.

I have gotten certain reviews concerning technical aspects of the story and have answered them through private messaging though I would like to share one of such conversations with you as it might help clarify the issue of Harry's money that a few people have asked about.

Some readers found the amount of money at Harry's disposal as well as the fact that he had no heirlooms from his family strange. I'm inclined to agree that is the case as I didn't elaborate on Harry's financial status with a lot of detail. So here's my explanation: In this fanfiction, Harry's family isn't rich, therefore, no books, weapons or items passed down from his parents or family. As for the amount of money in Harry's vault, I've had a lot of questions about the 2500 galleon stipend since J.K. Rowling states Harry has piles of coins in his trust vault. Here is my response: If we do the math, theres 29 knuts to a sickle and 17 sickles to a knut so 2500 galleons equates to 1 232 500 knuts or 42 500 sickles. evenly distributed amongst coin tpes, 2500 galleons is roughly 40 000 coins. Thats a big pile of money.

Thank you to dogsby for pointing out that I should explain Harry's monetary issues in further detail to clarify the story. As such, expect further clarification in later chapters.

"Speech"

'Thought'

_"Legilimecy"_

* * *

><p>Chapter 4<p>

Harry sat slack-jawed on his bed, one idea going round and round in his mind: 'Dumbledore cast the wards. Why would he cast dark magic on me?'

Harry couldn't make heads or tails of Dumbledore's reasoning; true, blood wards were absolutely impenetrable as the following paragraph in the book had stated, but casting them would diminish the magical power of the one it was cast on/upon by a ratioof two-to-one. The stronger the wards, the more they took from the wizard. Which meant that approximately a quarter of Harry's magic was drained to power the wards during the summer and had to replenish itself over the school year where he had to use it extensively so it obviously had never been at full capacity.

He had never accessed the totality of his magical power which was working overtime to replenish itself since he had been a year old.

The compendium clearly stated that magic was not a muscle; using it would not make the reserve larger, but it would make it slightly more potent. Since Harry's current magical power hovered around normal, he surmised that his actual magical potential was somewhere between above average and gifted, but no-where near Dumbledore and Voldemort's level. The potency of his magic also made more sense: How else could a patronus repel hundreds of dementors?

All the information he had amassed since the previous day was jumbled in Harry's mind. With a sigh, Harry began to think.

'Alright, First off there's the fact that I've never received fan-mail. Then comes all the murder attempts and the life-and-death scenarios that I miraculously survived a weakened magical core and a total lack of help and information from anyone who knows important things about me and my life, namely Dumbledore. It's almost as if…'

"MOTHER FUCKER!" Harry screamed, jumping to his feet, his book falling onto the floor. He began to pace furiously, his head full of half formed ideas.

'Dumbledore is behind all of it! It's almost as if Dumbledore…wants to test me or push me towards something… Like he wants to keep me away from society and keep me weak... But why? What does he get from stunting me like this? From putting me in life-or-death situations every year? I need answers and I need them fast.'

Harry stayed up for the vast majority of the night, puzzling over the odd actions made by the Headmaster of Hogwarts, eventually falling into a fitful sleep.

* * *

><p>The following morning, Harry made his way back to Knockturn Alley, returning to The Gilded Parchment. Stepping inside the small shop for the second time in as many days, Harry called out for Mr. Fleet.<p>

"Who's there?" The same gruff voice Harry recalled from the previous day called from the back of the shop, hidden behind many racks full of old and odd-looking books and knick-knacks.

Walking to the towards the sound of Harry's voice, Fleet came forward with a purple leather-bound book under his arm. His wand in hand hanging by his thigh.

"Ah, it's you again. Back so soon?" The elderly man spoke, his odd eyes piercing as he stared Harry down.

"It would appear that I am in need of some more of your time and discretion, Mr. Fleet."

"Very well. Given the money you gave me yesterday, I'll wave any fees for today, the cost of anything you buy notwithstanding."

Harry nodded graciously, surprised by the old shopkeeper's generosity.

"What'll it be today sir?" Fleet asked, his brow raising quizzically as he did so.

"I need information on how to disable blood wards, magical contracts and I need comprehensive books on arithmantic theory and application."

The shopkeeper's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. Fleet let out a low whistle, scratching at his beard and looking up in thought.

"Well, off the top of my head, I know I can get you the information on magical contracts and I have a few tomes on applied arithmancy that are the industry standard for spell-creators, but what you're looking for with all this blood ward business is over my head."

Harry sighed and looking around, pondered aloud: "Is there anywhere or anyone you might know of that could have access to information on blood wards?"

"My best guess would be that the Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries would know more about the subject than just about anyone else, but getting the to tell you anything about their work is damn near impossible." Fleet respond as he walked off to fetch the books he had for Harry.

"What exactly are Unspeakables? And for that matter, what is the Department of Mysteries?" Harry asked, recognising the name from the vision he had had of Voldemort. The Death Eater Rookwood was supposed to do something in the Department of Mysteries at Voldemort's bidding.

"Unspeakables are the most secretive organisation in Wizarding Britain and yet its worst guarded secret." Fleet began as he walked from one stack of books to the other, skimming the spines with his finger as he read their titles, looking for the books Harry had asked for. "Not much is known about them and even less is known about what they do. The only sure fact is that down in The Department of Mysteries - which is a branch of the Ministry for Magic reserved for Unspeakables - they study aspects of magic and magical artefacts that are too dangerous for the general population."

Harry Pondered Fleet's words for a moment and then asked: "Is there any way to contact the unspeakables?"

Fleet froze, his hand hovering over a book, his eyes far off into the distance. "It's best to not disturb them, and considering who you are and what you're looking for, it might be best not to attract unwanted attention from the Ministry of Magic, especially considering what's being said about you Mr. Potter."

Fleet plucked the book his hand had hovered over and brought it forward along with one other slightly smaller tome and set them down on the counter.

"One copy of Heraclitus Arcadian's Principles of Arithmancy and Magical laws and contracts by Oberon Fullsworth. That will be 65 galleons and 12 sickles Mr. Potter."

Harry pulled out the requested fee from his money pouch, having noticed the strange look in Fleet's eyes as he spoke of the Unspeakables. One thing was sure: Fleet knew more than he let on.

Stopping for food at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry skimmed through his book on magical laws and contracts over his sandwich, looking for the specific chapter he needed.

'Time to find out what constitutes a magically binding contract.' Harry thought to himself as he reached the intended page.

"_A magically binding contract is created when a being of a magical nature engages his or her magical core to the promise of an intended goal or service. Only the being itself can create a magical contract as no other can force one's magical core to bind itself to a cause without its consent. In the event that someone is forced into creating a magically binding contract, their magic will inherently decide the veracity of what the contract entails; should the person being forced into the contract desire the intended outcome of the contract, his magic will bind itself to the cause. However, if he or she does not desire the intended outcome of said contract, their magic will not bind itself to the promise mad and will renege."_

'Well fuck me sideways.' Harry thought as he angrily chewed through his meal. 'I didn't even have to compete and fight a fucking dragon! But then why did Crouch say the tournament was magically binding in nature? Maybe he assumed it was because my name was in the goblet? He didn't take into account that it wasn't me who wrote my name…None of them did. None of them believed me.'

Letting out a breath, Harry once again regretted not asking the tournament officials to submit him to veritaserum last year.

* * *

><p>Walking into Gringotts, Harry made a bee-line to the information desk.<p>

"I'm here to see Mr. Snarltooth." Harry said to the goblin sitting I front of him.

"One moment sir." The Goblin said as it hopped down and walked into Snarltooths office.

A few moments later, Harry was escorted into his account manager's office.

"Hello again Mr. Potter." Snarltooth began with a diplomatic smile. "How may we at Gringotts be of service to you today?"

"It has come to my attention that I have been the victim of a grievous crime and would like to take the matter before the Wizengamot."

Snarltooths demeanour immediately became one of seriousness and grim concentration. He called out in Gobbledygook. Almost immediately, a smaller and younger looking Goblin raced into the room and stood at attention before Snarltooth. The Elder Goblin began speaking rapidly in his native tongue, the younger goblin writing down furiously on a small notepad he held in his hand.

Dismissing the smaller goblin with a wave of his clawed hand, Snarltooth turned to face Harry.

"Very well Mr. Potter, of what grievance do you speak?"

"It has come to my attention that illegal wards have been placed around Number 4 Privet Drive that has been using my magical core against my will. The ward in question being a blood ward."

At these wards, Snarltooth did a double-take.

"I beg your pardon?" Snarltooth said, leaning forward and hoping he had not heard what he thought he had.

"Blood wards mister Snarltooth. Using my Magical core as an anchor to the property."

Snarltooth began writing on his stationary, taking down all the details Harry could give him about the subject.

Harry then came to a decision. He wasn't going to let the Tri-Wizard tournament slide either.

"I also want to take legal recourse for compensation after having been forced unwillingly into a tournament that I was not legally able to enter, having been erroneously told I had entered into a magical contract."

Snarltooth rubbed his forehead and sighed as he began pulling out the necessary paperwork.

"Very well Mr. Potter, I will begin making all the necessary legal actions to bring your cause before the Wizengamot. Though you must realize that as a minor, you cannot represent yourself. Would you like Gringotts to arrange a barrister for you?"

"That would be perfect." Harry replied as he left to leave the room.

"Oh, and one more thing Mr. Potter." Snarltooth said as he raised his eyes from his paperwork. "Do you know who cast the wards around yourself and number 4 Privet drive?"

"Albus Dumbledore."

Snarltooth froze.

* * *

><p>Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of his time, sat in his office reading the Daily Prophet, the paper having slandered his name once again. Sighing, the headmaster popped a lemon candy into his mouth. He was slowly losing his influence over both the Wizengamot and Fudge. This bade ill for the upcoming war against Tom and his minions. Sighing, he stood and began to pace.<p>

All his years of planning were finally coming into effect. He had to keep a clear head and act at the opportune moment or the future of the Wizarding world would be darkened by a mad man with a fetish for killing innocents. He had to keep control.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dumbledore saw an owl approaching his window. He let it in and relieved it of its courier, which he began to read.

"_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is hereby summoned to represent himself directly or by intermission of a barrister in the legal recourse of Harry Potter vs. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore before the totality of the Wizengamot._

_Failure to comply will result in the fining of the offending party and swift legal action._

_Your reply is awaited within a span of fifteen business days._

_Director of Potter accounts,_

_Snarltooth"_

Throwing the letter down onto his desk, Dumbledore grabbed some floo powder and made his way to his fireplace. Tossing the powder onto the fire, He stepped in and announced:

"Number 34, Wisteria Walk."

Striding out of a fireplace in a small living room overrun by cats, Dumbledore spoke to the only occupant of the room.

"Sorry to disturb you Arabella, but I have pressing matters to attend to."

Never once stopping or slowing his stride, the headmaster walked directly to the door of number 4 Privet drive and rang the bell. Waiting patiently, he spun around when he heard the door open.

"Hello Petunia. I would very much like a word with Harry please."


End file.
